


Broken Dolls

by orphan_account



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the woman she loves trapped in hell, reality becomes a prison for the newly crowned Supreme, Cordelia Foxx, but when two new witches enroll at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies with promises for new, unheard of abilities, could it be that Cordelia's wish for the return of Misty Day will be granted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Dolls

It’s hard in this life for everything to be forgotten, to move on like nothing has happened, and you know that more than anyone. You shouldn’t linger on a lost soul, impossible to save but whenever you fall asleep the only dream you have is a nightmare. A nightmare where you watch the darkness fill her blue eyes, where her golden hair slowly begins to turn to ash and you try your absolute hardest to bring her back, you try to hold her together as her body falls apart into nothing but a grey dust that was once the woman you loved and the woman you never told that you loved. So you try to forget, you’ve already tried everything you could to bring her back but it was hopeless. Life isn’t kind to you; it never has been, so you decide it’s over. You’re already dead inside so what’s the point of living? Living without her isn’t living anyway. I have a house full of excited young witches but what’s the point of teaching them if she’s not here, what is the point. It’s simple, I’ve found out why my life is no so awful, why I no longer want to live; you just can’t get over Misty Day.

OoOoO

“Cordelia, we need you to wake up. We can’t do this on our own. We knew you missed her but we tried. We need you Cordelia, we can’t run this school without you,” Zoe’s voice echoed around the hospital room which was silent except from the slow beeping of the life support machine.

Cordelia’s eyes slowly opened, the brilliant whiteness of the room coming into focus along with the worried faces of both Queenie and Zoe. She attempted to sit up but a splitting pain went through her arm as she attempted to put pressure on it. Her face distorted in confusion as she looked down at her wrists, white gauze wrapped around both of them.

“What- what happened?” she asked, looking up at the drip which was evidently pumping drugs into her blood stream. She couldn’t remember anything, she had a hunch about what had happened but it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

“You tried to kill yourself. Don’t you remember?” Zoe looked confused to say the least but answered the question despite that fact. Cordelia was a vital part of the school and she needed to be there to do anything she could to get her back to the girls. She and Queenie were barely coping; there were over a hundred girls in their care, each needing unique training to help them develop, and they couldn’t give it to them, they’d barely finished the school themselves. Cordelia was the life and soul of the academy and without her it couldn’t function but she couldn’t function without Misty.

“The doctor said that you’ll be fine in a few days and after a week, ready for discharge as long as we keep an eye on you. They’ve put you on meds, anti-depressants, and you have to take them every morning. If you refuse he said we have to bring you straight back here,” Zoe’s voice was monotone and sincere, she evidently didn’t know how to handle the situation. To Cordelia’s surprise, Queenie had not yet said a word, but as he eyes shifted from the clean, white sheets, to the Supreme’s  pale face it was obvious that was about to change.

“We know you miss her, we all do. Misty was a great witch and we’ve all done everything we could to try and bring her back, but she’s gone. We’re not ever getting her back. You loved her, everyone knew it,” a small, reminiscent smile grew on Queenie’s face as she paused for a moment. “You thought you were so subtle, you and her, sneaking off to the greenhouse to ‘work’. We all knew you were just going someplace quiet and away from everyone so you could make out without anyone noticing, not that it ever worked. Even your mom saw it, she saw the love you to shared and she couldn’t bare it. She became even bitterer to you, but she always _always_ loved you, we all love you. We need you Delia, we all do. You need to get better, okay? You need to…” silent tears were rolling down Queenie’s face as she finished talking, the small smile still remaining against all odds.

“Help me up,” Cordelia said, extending her hand. Her voice was frail and wavered as she struggled to pronounce each syllable, her body still weak from blood loss.  

Queenie rushed to her assistance, hefting the woman’s body upright and propping her against the thin hospital pillows. In that moment, Cordelia looked so helpless. Her face was sunken, her bone protruding as if they would tear through her paper white skin at any moment. Her smiles were forced and painful, her hands shook constantly and uncontrollably and her eyes had lost all life. Once beautiful chocolate brown eyes, dancing with light and happiness, were now dull muddy brown eyes filled with pain, sorrow and regret. They had almost lost her; they had almost lost the woman who had been more like a mother to them than their real mothers ever could. Everyone breaks at some point though, and being a mother to a hundred girls while the woman you love is trapped in hell was what had finally done it for Cordelia. Life no longer seemed worth living, it was evident to everyone who knew her. She was lost, a once beautiful porcelain doll now faded and cracked. Broken.

Cordelia turned her attention to the two girls who now stood at the foot of her bed; they had grown so much since they had first crossed the threshold of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies but they had been forced into adulthood to young and it was obvious in their once innocent faces that it had left them scarred.

“I’m so sorry to ask this,” Cordelia started, her voice husky and sore. “I need you to return to the academy and look after the girls, I appreciate you being here and I love you both dearly but there are things that come first. It’s a school full of witches, there’s bound to be trouble without supervision. I would love for you to come and see me again, but maybe one at a time next time. The girls need-” she was cut off by a sharp pain running through her right arm but recovered quickly, struggling to complete her speech. “The girls need supervision, without it havoc will ensue. You know from personal experience, young witches without rules can mean nothing but trouble.”

Cordelia attempted a smile but it seemed to avoid her eyes like the plague. Her muscles contorted and her dazzling smile was revealed but her eyes remained dull and lifeless, a reveal of the lie that was her happiness.

“We’ll go Cordelia, but only because the girls need us,” Zoe was the first to speak up. “If they weren’t in the picture then we would stay here day and night until your recovery but they are so we can’t.”

“They just keep coming,” Queenie continued for Zoe whose eyes were fogging up with unshed tears. “You know, I’m thinking we’re gonna need a new house, maybe one not haunted by an axe murderer this time,” Queenie attempted to joke, but her humour fell on dead ears.

“Goodbye girls,” Cordelia said, gazing from the window. She wanted to just sink into the bed, down into the eternal nothingness of the afterlife but she couldn’t, she had responsibilities after all. The academy needed her alive, even if it meant being an almost empty shell.

Cordelia hadn’t realised it but she’d been lost in her thoughts for hours, thoughts of a final escape from the hell that was reality.  Several hours had passed since Queenie and Zoe had left, not that she had noticed, and the nurses were bringing round dinner.

“Miss Foxx?” the nurse asked as she entered the room, unusually carrying only one tray instead of the trolley full of meals which she would usually have to drag from room to room.

“Just put it on the table,” Cordelia said, not moving her gaze from the small window which seemed like a portal into the rainy world that she had found herself in.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, I’ve been told that I have to sit with you and make sure you eat everything. You’re under watch, you see, they’re worried about you. That’s why I’ve been told to watch you eat, in case you don’t.”

Cordelia attempted to influence the young nurse’s mind, but her body was too weak. What would have been a spectacular achievement for the newly crowned Supreme was instead a pathetic wave of her limp arm. In an act of despair, Cordelia resigned herself to eating the overly processed food of the hospital and making petty conversation with her nurse.

“Is that and Irish accent I detect,” she managed to croak out while swirling the evidently artificial mashed potato around the plate with her fork.

“Yes Miss,” she said. “I was born in Ireland, both of my parents are Irish but we moved her when I was around five. Dad had a brain tumour, you see, and they didn’t have the technology there to cure it so we had to move over here for his treatment. They said he was too far gone though, and my poor father died not long after our move. Mum couldn’t bring herself to move back to Ireland without him so we stayed and I became a nurse because I couldn’t help my own father to live, I wanted to be able to help other dad’s to stay alive if only for their babies.”

“That’s a very moving story,” Cordelia said, wincing as she swallowed the last bite of overcooked food on her plate. “There it’s all gone. May I sleep now? I’m awfully tired.”

“Oh, of course Miss Foxx. I’m sorry to have kept you with my ramblings. Just let me get your tray and I’ll be out the door in two swishes of a horse’s tail,” the young nurse grabbed the tray for Cordelia’s lap, bustling out of the room as fast as she could.

Cordelia turned onto her side, once again facing the small hospital window. She pulled the clean white covers up to her chin, the smell of disinfectant filling her nose as she did so. This place was so dull and dreary. If Misty were here then she’d fill the room with the smell of dew drops on a spring morning and early blooming wild flowers but, then again, if Misty were alive the she wouldn’t be here.

The Supreme closed her eyes, allowing her head to fill with visions of Misty’s mass of curly blonde hair and her endearing kindness. Misty was everything that anyone should want to be: she was talented, she was beautiful and best of all she was caring. In another universe maybe Misty wouldn’t have died and she and Cordelia would be tangled amongst soft white sheets as the rest of the academy slept. This was not another universe however, and she would never see the woman she loved again.

Cordelia allowed sleep to take over, as memories of her and the beautiful witch who could’ve been hers filled her mind.

Cordelia awoke with a scream, her hands immediately scrabbling for some hold of reality. The first things her gentle fingers brushed, however, was one of Misty’s old shawls, causing her mind to switch from terror to crippling sadness. Sobs racked her body as a trail of nurses came rushing into her room, alarmed by the sudden screaming.

Her eyes focused, the immaculate room coming into vision. Her eyes honed in on Misty’s shawl; it was blue with intricate floral embroidery. She remembered Misty going on and on about how she had come into possession of this shawl, how it had been a lucky find at a charity shop we she had almost lost to an obnoxious middle aged woman. Though she was still blind at the time, she could practically hear the sparkle in Misty’s eyes as she spoke with much passion about how she’d used the shawl to perfect her Stevie style twirl. Misty was such a passionate woman, such a beautiful spirit, such a kind heart. Misty.

Cordelia’s heart broke all over again. It was her fault. She could see that Misty was weaker than the other witches; her skills with resurgence were unmatchable but she had to put so much more effort into the other tasks than her fellow students. Yet Cordelia had still pushed her to continue, hoping that Misty was the Supreme, she was good and deserving and so innocent, exactly what the coven needed. It was her fault, she had pushed her, and Cordelia knew that as she felt Misty’s body turn to ash realisation struck that, thanks to her, Misty was now stuck in hell for all eternity. It was a fate she did not deserve yet it was a fate she had been given. Cordelia deserved to be down there, not Misty, yet here she was.

“I’m fine, it was just a nightmare,” Cordelia told the nurses fussing around her. “Nothing happened, just bad memories.” This seemed enough to convince the worried nurses and they left the room without hesitation.

Cordelia stayed awake for the rest of the night, reliving the memory of Misty deteriorating in her arms. It was a death that she would always hold herself accountable for. Misty was sweet and kind yet thanks to her the worst fate of all had fallen upon her.

When Zoe returned in the morning Cordelia had lost herself to her mind, she was unreachable by communication and Zoe dared not lay a finer on her for fear of her breaking, so before long the younger witch had returned to her duties at the academy, all the while Cordelia replaying her worst fear over and over again; a fear which had become reality. 

* * *

 


End file.
